


At Least Gotta Start

by thepinupchemist



Series: Retail Hell with the Young Avengers [2]
Category: Young Avengers, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Retail, Bipolar Billy, Bipolar Disorder, Brothers, Family, Family Feels, M/M, Piercings, Shopping Malls, and billy thinks teddy is straight, basically brothers being brothers, genderqueer Loki, he is very mistaken, loki uses they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 20:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: Tommy joined the Kaplan family three years ago, and Billy wishes he wanted to be a bigger part of it.He also wishes Teddy wasn't heterosexual.Some wishes might come true.(Immediately picks up from Neurotic to the Bone in Billy's perspective)





	At Least Gotta Start

**Author's Note:**

> This does contain references to underage drinking and drug use, and this one has themes relating to mental illness and childhood trauma. BUT IT'S FLUFFY I PROMISE
> 
> I'm using my own Hot Topic employment as a jumping point, but I haven't worked there for a few years, so allow for some liberties!

**Soundtrack: F9mily (You & Me) – Lil Nas X & Travis Barker**

**At Least Gotta Start**

Hauling Tommy inside the house proved more difficult than watching Teddy (Underwear Model Theodore, if you asked Tommy) and David (Hot Puzzle Guy, again, if you asked Tommy) handle him down the street and into Billy’s shitty Honda. Somewhere along the fifteen minute drive from Kate’s rich people cul-de-sac to the Kaplans’ middle class street, Tommy fell asleep in the passenger seat, head lolling against the window.

Billy opened the door on the passenger side and poked Tommy in the shoulder.

“Hey dickhead,” he whispered, in the hope that they wouldn’t wake his – their – parents.

Tommy came into their lives in the most bizarre way. The Kaplans couldn’t have biological children, so they’d adopted – Billy first, then Aaron, then Jacob. Somewhere around Jacob’s ninth birthday and Billy’s sixteenth, their mom and dad threw around the idea of fostering another kid.

When a caseworker presented the files of kids that needed a home, Mom and Dad found their oldest son’s own face looking up at them from a manilla folder, only green-eyed with a criminal record as long as Billy’s forearm.

_Thomas Shepherd_, the folder told them.

Rebecca and Jeff brought Tommy home less than a week later. He came with a single backpack full of belongings, hands twitching on the straps as though he expected to need to run at any moment, and a look behind the eyes that was piss and vinegar to the core.

When Tommy and Billy laid eyes on each other for the first time, Billy said: “What?”

Tommy said: “Oh, fuck this shit.”

For a long time, they didn’t get along. Maybe they still didn’t get along. Billy could never tell; he only knew that Tommy had been there for him in ways he could never repay (the seventy-two hour hold, for one), even if he never said in words that they mattered to each other.

“Tommy, c’mon,” Billy pleaded, now, in 2019.

Three years had passed since the day Tommy came home to them. Too much happened in between then and now, but last month, Tommy let slip a ‘mom’ to Rebecca, disappeared for two days, and returned referring to both Rebecca and Jeff as ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ respectively.

Tommy’s brow furrowed. He blinked to half-awake. “Billy?” he said. “You’re melting.”

“You’re tripping balls, dude,” Billy told him, determined to be quiet. “I got you, though, okay? We just need to sneak up to our room.”

Tommy leaned almost his entire weight on Billy up the front walkway. On the stairs, he gripped the railing, and they made their way up at a glacial pace. Billy almost cheered for their natural twenty stealth roll, until Tommy tried to open the door and crashed into their bedroom headfirst, bringing a desk lamp and the laundry hamper down with him as he tried to find something to steady himself with.

“Shit,” Tommy cursed.

Billy smeared a hand over his face.

Only thirty seconds later, as Tommy clawed his way up onto to the bottom bunk, Mom appeared in a bathrobe and plaid pajamas. She took stock of the scene in front of her and asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

Billy shrugged a shoulder. “I was gonna make him drink some water before he passed out. He just drank too much.” Better to leave the drug use out of the conversation and spare Tommy twice the lecture about self-respect and healthy coping mechanisms. The day Rebecca Kaplan managed to herd Tommy into a therapist’s office, Billy would eat every cheap eyeshadow palette in the Hot Topic impulse display.

“You get him in bed,” Mom ordered, “and I’ll get him some water.”

Billy wrestled Tommy out of his skintight jeans and faux-leather jacket with minimal bickering. As he pulled the covers on the bottom bunk (which belonged to Billy, but no one wanted to attempt shoving drunk Tommy up on the top bunk where he belonged), Mom returned. She nudged Billy aside, said, “Thomas, drink this before you fall asleep.”

“Hunh,” was all that Tommy got out, but he listened. At least half of the glass soaked into the collar of Tommy’s t-shirt, but if half made it down his throat, Billy counted that as a victory.

Mom closed the door behind her when she left.

When Billy climbed up into Tommy’s bed and hitched the covers up, Tommy called, “Hey Billy?”

“What?” Billy said. He was going to hate himself so much tomorrow when he opened the store. So very, very much.

“Did I meet Hot Puzzle Guy?” he asked. “Or did I make that up?”

“You met Hot Puzzle Guy,” Billy assured him.

“Fucking dope,” murmured Tommy, and promptly fell asleep.

**

Billy hated himself.

He hated morning, he hated the sun, and he hated his dumbass twin brother. He blinked against the sunrise as he drove to the mall and dumped more coffee down his throat. Billy had no idea how he was supposed to make it through the next eight hours without jumping into the void, but at least his morning meds would bolster his ability to resist the void.

The plastic lid on his Starbucks popped halfway off in his hand on his way downstairs to the Hot Topic.

The void sure did sound nice right about now.

He let out an emphatic, “I’m gonna fucking kill myself,” garnering an alarmed look from one of the elderly women in workout gear that made speedwalking circuits around the upper level of the mall before the stores opened for the day.

Billy waved and said, “It’s hyperbole, I promise!”

He spilled more coffee over his hand.

Billy sighed, and as he sucked dripping coffee off his wrist at the bottom of the stairs, he got a, “Tough morning?” from behind.

Billy leapt about a foot in the air. This time, he dropped the entire cup of coffee on the shiny tile floor.

Teddy stood at his shoulder.

Hello, void? It’s Billy Kaplan. Take me now.

“Man, I am so sorry,” Teddy said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It was my fault,” Billy said, then corrected, “No, wait. This was definitely Tommy’s fault. I went to bed at a normal hour for once in my life, even though I wanted to binge the rest of the new Dog Cops season so I can talk about it with Kate, and he got me out of bed because he can’t go to a therapist like some of us do.”

Teddy stared for a second.

“Shit, sorry, that was way more information than you asked for,” Billy went on. “I’m gonna – go, uh. Open my store. Before I tell you my entire life story and ensure you’ll never speak to me again.”

Teddy smiled at that, and his stupid, dimpled face sent Billy’s heart out of step. He said, “I don’t think you could make that happen even if you tried,” and why did he have to say stuff like that? Billy couldn’t take this kind of abuse from the prettiest, most tragically heterosexual man alive.

“I’m gonna go,” Billy repeated, and fled.

Billy unlocked the door to Hot Topic and went through the motions of opening the store: noticing what the closing team forgot to do, counting the money, and glaring at Loki went they slid into the store fifteen minutes late with Starbucks.

“Sorry I’m late,” Loki said.

“No, you’re not,” Billy replied. He hated Loki. Sometimes. Other times he thought he might enjoy working with Loki. But right now he hated them.

“No, I’m not,” agreed Loki.

And as soon as the mall opened, Billy shoved his stupid brother and his stupid crush out of his head. He did his assistant manager position proud despite the headache throbbing in his temples, because he’d needed that coffee he dumped all over the floor. He even eyeballed some new plaid overalls in their shipment and, not for the first time, considered dipping into ugly-chic wardrobe choices. Billy barely passed muster as it was: cheap eyeliner, cheaper black polish chipping from his nails, his favorite t-shirt (black, emblazoned with a rainbow D20 that read ‘Chaotic Gay’), and his galaxy jeans that sagged a little too much on his skinny frame.

As Billy contemplated plaid overalls, the unfeeling nature of the universe reared its stupid head, because Teddy walked through the door of the store, a coffee cup in his hand and a sheepish look on his face. He smiled a little when he saw Billy folding superhero shirts on one of the front displays.

“Hey,” said Teddy, and thrust the coffee cup out at Billy, “I bought you a replacement. ‘Cause, y’know, this morning.”

“Oh,” was about all Billy could say, because that was impossibly sweet, and his mangled heart grew three sizes right then and there.

“I also need a couple new rings,” Teddy said, reaching up to feel along the shell of his ear. “I lost two last night at Kate’s party, so. Never gonna see those again.”

“Oh, yeah! Totally! Let me – I’m just gonna drink some of this and stash it in the back room,” Billy told him.

The coffee – plain with just a little cream, exactly like he liked it (how did Teddy know Billy’s Starbucks order?) – immediately boosted Billy’s mood. Whether it was the caffeine or the fact that the coffee came from Teddy, he couldn’t say, and nor did he particularly care, as he stepped back into the store and to Teddy, who squinted into the body jewelry cases.

“Wrong case,” Billy told him. “The earrings are on the other side.”

Teddy turned pink. “I, uh, I know. One of the things I – I, um. Ilostanipplering.”

“What.”

Teddy inhaled, then exhaled, then said, “I lost a nipple ring.”

Billy’s eyes flicked down of their own volition. He couldn’t see through Teddy’s shirt, which was not nearly tight enough, to confirm or deny the existence of nipple rings.

“I promise they’re there,” Teddy said.

Heat immediately filled Billy’s face, and shit, he was bright red. His baseline skin tone was fifty shades of sour cream, and he both burned and blushed like a motherfucker. “Right. I’ll just – which ones do you like?”

“Well, as much as I like the ones with the chains,” Teddy dryly said, “I think maybe the silver barbells will be fine.”

_Don’t picture that._

Billy pictured it.

“That’s – yeah. Okay. Cool. It’s buy two get one free. You want any others?” Smooth. Not the worst he could do. Billy was almost proud of himself for not stammering his entire way through that.

At the register, Teddy shuffled in place. He said, “So, about last night.”

“Tommy’s fine,” Billy told him, as he scanned Teddy’s new earrings and, with an evil eye, the nipple rings.

“No, I mean,” Teddy stopped mid-sentence, and Billy blinked up from the register at him.

Teddy was chewing on his lower lip, pink across the apples of his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and went on, “I mean when we put Tommy in the car, and I was talking to you about your pajamas, and Tommy said...”

_We all know you’re gay for Underwear Model Theodore._

Oh, shit.

Billy forgot about that. He went cold in an instant, fingers going still on the counter.

“Is my sexuality a problem for you?” Billy asked. He could barely hear his own voice over the music screaming overhead, something from one of those of-the-moment emo bands that vanished and reappeared as somebody else that sounded exactly the same.

“No! God, no!” Teddy blurted. “Jesus, Billy, of course not. I meant, um, the part where he said, uh, about me? Personally?”

“I’m going to jump into the void,” Billy said, before he could stop himself.

“Don’t do that,” Teddy replied. “I’d kinda miss you.”

“Only kinda?” asked Billy.

Teddy rubbed the back of his neck again. “Listen. If what Tommy said was true and I, theoretically, maybe, also liked you, would you maybe, theoretically, let me take you on a date?”

“I’m – you – aren’t you straight?”

Teddy’s brows snapped together. “Absolutely the fuck not. You thought I was straight?”

“You wear your hats backwards!” Billy defended.

“I’ve been flirting with you for months!” Teddy said back.

“Wha – _months_?” Billy frowned, thinking back to every interaction they’d had. Teddy did, perhaps, come in for new jewelry more than strictly necessary. And he did once – oh shit. “You changed your earrings for pride month. They were rainbow. I’m so stupid. I am the dumbest bitch I know.”

“I don’t know about that,” Teddy replied, mouth quirking up on one side. “A little oblivious, sure. Is that a yes? To the date? I was thinking maybe we could go to that one board game cafe, the one off of First and –”

“Yeah, Boards & Beans,” Billy said. “Yes. I would like that. A lot. Please.”

“As touching as this is,” drawled Loki, where they leaned against the opposite side of the cash wrap, “we have people waiting to check out.”

Sure enough, behind Teddy, a line of people had begun to form, looking more than a little irritated with Billy’s floundering. Teddy glanced over his shoulder, went a little pinker, and dug in his wallet for his debit card. He said, “Can I give you my number?”

“Yeah, yes, please,” Billy said, and threw a sticky note pad at Teddy. Teddy scribbled his number on the paper.

“Come on, man, let’s pick it up,” the guy behind Teddy said.

“I’ll text you,” Billy promised hurriedly, and printed Teddy’s receipt.

“Sounds good,” Teddy grinned. The dimples would be the death of Billy.

Billy watched Teddy’s back as he wove through the displays, black bag clutched in one, big hand.

**

When Billy arrived home, Tommy had disappeared from the house. He wasn’t home by the time dinner swung around, and when they sat down to brisket with one empty place setting, Mom’s mouth was taut with worry. She didn’t say anything about it, but Billy knew she worried. They all did.

At least Tommy came back. His disappearances were shorter and shorter, now. Sometimes a day or two, mostly a handful of hours. He seemed to consider the Kaplan house a home base, if not yet a home. Three years should have been enough to make it a home, if you asked Billy, but he bit down on the sides of his mouth when he thought that.

(“Other people are not failed attempts at being you, William Kaplan,” Mom had said once. He tried to remember that. Some times were harder than others.)

During dinner, Billy’s phone vibrated against his thigh.

Teddy. Teddyteddyteddy. Was it Teddy?

He was not allowed to take it out and find out.

Billy shoved the rest of food into his mouth at record speed. He asked to be excused, and though Mom raised her brows, she let him go.

He barreled into his bedroom at full-force and leapt onto his bed. Billy whipped out his phone. Sure enough:

**[4:14 PM] Billy: **hey

**[4:14 PM] Billy: **so

**[4:15 PM] Billy: **boards n beans

**[4:15 PM] Billy: **and being gay

**[7:01 PM] Teddy: **the three Bs

**[7:16 PM] Billy: **akfhjhahf okay but seriously

**[7:17 PM] Teddy: **how’s tuesday night

**[7:17 PM] Billy: **uhhh lemme check my schedule real quick

**[7:19 PM] Billy: **yes that works let’s do that

“What are you smiling at?”

Billy dropped his phone on his face.

Tommy climbed the rest of the way through the window and leaned against the window pane. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his chin jutted out in his usual I-fucking-dare-you-to-ask-me-how-I-am haughtiness.

“Did you seriously climb through the window to avoid Mom?” Billy asked, sitting up. His phone vibrated in his lap.

“What do you think?” Tommy shot back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Heat, once more, flooded Billy’s face.

“Holy shit, were you sexting?” asked Tommy, perking up. He threw himself onto Billy’s bunk and made to grab Billy’s phone, but Billy snatched it back before his brother could get ahold of it.

“I’m not sexting,” he protested. “It’s Teddy.”

Tommy’s face went slack. “Did you finally sack up and get his number? Am I hearing this right?”

“Fuck off,” Billy said, without any heat. “Did you know he’s gay?”

Tommy’s expression shifted to incredulous. “I’m sorry – did you _not_ know that? He wore rainbow earrings all June, you fucking casual.”

“You don’t have to be rude,” Billy simpered. “And anyway, you told him I had a crush on him last night when you were wasted. So.”

“So what you’re saying is that you have Underwear Model Theodore’s phone number because of me?” A grin spread across Tommy’s face. “And? How’s it going? Am I the best matchmaker ever, or what?”

Billy bit down on his lower lip. “We have a date on Tuesday.”

Tommy pumped his fist. “Fuck yeah! That’s a double-score for drunk me.”

“Double-score?”

Tommy pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and punched in the passcode. He pulled up his contacts page and pointed to one line among his indecipherable mess of a contacts list.

A puzzle piece emoji.

“Holy shit,” said Billy. “I can’t believe David put his number in your phone.”

“His name’s David?” Tommy asked, wondering.

“Man, you really were trashed, weren’t you?” Billy said. “Did you text him yet?”

Tommy didn’t answer.

“Weren’t you just making fun of me for – what did you call it – not sacking up?”

Tommy did that thing. The thing. The thing where his head went someplace way off base, kind of like Billy’s did sometimes, except that Billy was starting to get things under control with his new meds and therapist and Tommy refused to acknowledge that he might need somebody to talk to, too.

“Tommy, come on,” Billy said. “Don’t self-sabotage.”

“Don’t,” Tommy said, “armchair diagnose me. You and your mom need to lay the fuck off.”

“_Our_ mom is worried about you,” Billy said tartly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Billy argued.

Tommy scrambled off of Billy’s bunk. “I don’t have to listen to this. I don’t have to listen to you or Mom or some rando shrink that wants to give all my bullshit fancy names or whatever. I’m outta here.”

“Tommy,” Billy protested, but Tommy was already climbing back out the window. Billy slid out of bed to watch Tommy’s deft movement from roof to tree to lawn.

And then Tommy ran.

**

At one in the morning, Tommy climbed back in through the window. Billy glanced away from Dog Cops on his laptop and pulled his earbuds out of his ears.

“You take your night meds?” Tommy asked gruffly, as he shed his jacket.

“Not yet,” answered Billy. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“It’s nothing.”

It was not nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me @thepinupchemist on Twitter for any writing updates (although I am mostly writing a book rn), stupid headcanons for comics and MCU, and too many selfies.


End file.
